


Cautiously Optimistic

by EvilMuffins



Category: Dangan Ronpa, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Holding Hands, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-10-28 18:30:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17792510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilMuffins/pseuds/EvilMuffins
Summary: “Gimme your hand,” he demanded.Saihara obeyed, curious, if not entirely optimistic. Ouma seemed to harbor some sense of duty, even if Saihara didn’t always fully understand it....Ouma repays a debt.





	Cautiously Optimistic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [graveExcitement](https://archiveofourown.org/users/graveExcitement/gifts).



The sound of his own chair scraping against the floor in the otherwise silent lab was enough to make Saihara cringe. He had been at this for so long, that he had nearly forgotten that he was no longer seated in his familiar rolling chair from back home at his uncle’s place. If he were to look through just more book or file, he was entirely certain that he would go blind.

Rubbing at his eyes and taking a deep breath, Saihara leaned back, taking stock of the bumps making up the generic popcorn ceiling. Beyond that one particular book, nothing else in his lab had proven useful, most of the books lined up along shelves proving to be little more than fictional detective stories. Although he had enjoyed them now and again while back home, he wasn’t in the mood for that sort of escapism at the moment, not when actual lives were at stake.

Saihara rubbed at the bridge of his nose. _There be must be something I’m missing…_

A thought struck him then- _False drawer bottoms, of course!_

Leaping up from the chair, Saihara clamored back to the desk, yanking the drawer open. Magnifying glass, notepad, pocket knife… all resting upon a solid wooden surface, not hollow in the least.

_Well, it was worth a shot…_

Idly, he began leafing through the notepad, yet each and every page was depressingly blank. Setting it aside, Saihara next picked up the pocket knife. Compared to the things he had seen in Maki’s lab, the tiny blade was hardly the most dangerous thing that had been supplied to the students. Extending the blade, Saihara held it up to the light, attempting to catch the glint.

It was concerningly similar to the one that Ouma had used to tease him with just the other day, he thought, and a shudder ran through him as his mind strayed to the thin stream of blood that had ran from between Ouma’s thin fingers.

Splaying his own digits, Saihara rested his palm flush against the desk’s surface.

He had never seem himself as particularly gifted in the way of coordination, often getting himself smacked in the face with some piece of sporting equipment or another during gym class, or dropping the entire contents of his pocket down a storm drain while on his way to the convenience store.

It would be an astoundingly foolish thing for him to attempt, he told himself, raising the knife into the air directly above his hand.

In one swift motion, Saihara jabbed the knife down in between his fingers. Again and again he repeated the action, growing bolder and more confident all the while, that is until a sudden burst of pain caused him to yelp, letting the knife fall to the floor alongside of few droplets of blood.

_Shit…_

He didn’t even know what he had expected to happen. Even Ouma—far more steady-handed and self-assured than Saihara could ever hope to be—had managed to slip up and stab himself, even if Saihara wasn’t wholly convinced that it had been only an accident.

“Yoo-hoo!”

Saihara groaned at the sound of the playful voice approaching his room. _Why now of all times?_

“Saihara-chan!” Ouma gasped, trotting to his side, eyes growing wide in mock horror. “Tell me who attempted to murder my beloved, so I can avenge him!”

Saihara rolled his eyes, scanning the room for anything to blot his hand with. “I just…got a little clumsy and hurt my hand, that’s all,” he said, painfully aware that wasn’t nearly half as good of a liar as his classmate was.

Ouma grinned. “Knife got up and bit you, huh?”

“Something like that…” Saihara muttered, standing up while resigning himself to the fact that there was nothing useful around, unless one of the poisons could somehow be utilized as a medicine, something he didn’t care to experiment with to find out. While he did still have the first aid kit, it was currently stored away back in his dorm room.

“Ugh, don’t get too close to me!” Ouma grimaced, taking a step backward. “You’ll get blood all over my clothes! White stains, bucko!”

Saihara frowned, unimpressed by Ouma's current theatrics. “You have five identical pairs.”

“Nishishi~” Ouma giggled. “You saw right through me, Saihara-chan! What a talented detective you are!”

“Sure…” _Where was he going with this?_

Ouma continued, “I have a reward for you!”

With that, Ouma reached downward, fiddling at the buckle strapped to his thigh. Once it came undone, he took the long ribbon of fabric that had trailed there into his hands, bringing it closer to Saihara.

“Gimme your hand,” he demanded.

Saihara obeyed, curious, if not entirely optimistic. Ouma seemed to harbor some sense of duty, even if Saihara didn’t always fully understand it.

Falling more quiet than Saihara had ever seen him, Ouma began to wrap the cloth carefully around Saihara’s hand, round and round in deliberate motions as precisely as a trained nurse.

“Thank you,” Saihara said warmly, truly meaning it while marveling at Ouma’s finished handy work.

“Only the best for my beloved Saihara-chan!” Ouma beamed, but Saihara could feel the tension coiling in the other boy’s small body as he continued to hold onto his hand. He would dart any moment now, but the fact that Ouma had reached out a hand to him in return for the first time ever would stay with him for long, long after.

 

 

 

 


End file.
